


Free

by The_girlwholived



Category: Discworld
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-22
Updated: 2018-07-22
Packaged: 2019-06-14 10:45:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15387075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_girlwholived/pseuds/The_girlwholived
Summary: Magda and Tilda escape from the Girl's Working School.





	Free

Magda Halter arrived at the Grey House when she was six years old. She didn't remember much of her life before that, other than the dark and the screaming. Her mother had locked her in cupboards. That she heard from the sisters who whispered among themselves when the girls were working. She didn't remember before, but she remembered during, remembered being wrenched kicking and screaming from the street pole she had been clinging to, remembered being thrown into the carriage beside Father Jupe and the sisters. The seats had been slippery leather, too high for her small legs to touch the ground, and she had screamed non stop until one of the sisters had put a gag in her mouth.

She remembered arriving at the Grey House, the burning bath, the scrubbing with carbolic soap. She knew she'd had a toy taken away from her, but she couldn't remember what it was. They had shaved her head, bundled her up in a grey dress, and when she had bitten one of the sisters, they had locked her in the dark again, ignoring her screams for help.  
Magda was seventeen now, and she had learned that biting sisters didn't help. Nothing helped. They locked you in and the only way you were ever leaving was in a box. She lay in the cold dormitory, listening to the breathing of the other girls. It was late, and she was freezing, but that was nothing new. The girls slept on hard and lumpy mattresses, each one given a thin blanket and one grey pillow.

She counted on her fingers, hearing the creak of the floorboard as Sister Jennifer passed the room.  
And then, as the footsteps faded, Magda climbed out of bed, smoothed down her dress, and saw Tilda's eyes open in the bed across from hers.

She gave a quick nod, and the other girl slid out of bed, also fully dressed. had arrived a year before. Magda still remembered the day the carriage had rolled up in the driveway again, all of the girls slapped over the head for being distracted from their work. Tilda had been heavily pregnant, and that wasn't unusual for girls arriving at the school. She never spoke to anyone, not even when the other girls bullied her. She had given birth after a month, only for the baby to be taken away, and that night Magda had seen her light a match and watch the flame dance, like she was entranced by it.

In the long nights since she had whispered her story to Magda, the two of them crammed in the only safe space at night, the cold corner of the pantry. Tilda had been working in a mill, and the owner had raped her, like he had raped so many other girls working for him, with the help of his wife. So she'd taken a match, taken barrels and flour and water, and set the whole place alight. The miller and his wife had died in the blaze. Magda admired Tilda like she had never admired anybody before, and over time their friendship had grown into something deeper. Tilda wasn't a victim, but a survivor. She looked gentle and meek, but give her a box of matches and a lockpick and she was deadly.

The portrait of the Duchess watched them in the hall. Magda gave her the middle finger, and a little thrill passed through her. For eleven years, she had been forced to pray to the woman, and what had she ever done for her, or Tilda, or any of the other girls? There was crying in the dormitory where the little kids slept. There always was, until they learned that crying got you nowhere.

The basement door was locked, but Tilda was good with locked doors, and they'd been planning this for a long time. She picked the lock as Magda kept watch, hissing between her teeth as it proved stubborn.

"I thought you practised this last week!" Magda hissed.

"I did, but it's stiff -"

The lock gave a tiny click, and Tilda's tense shoulders relaxed.  
The basement was cold and silent. Like the dark attic, it was a place where the bad girls could be locked up for days at a time. Magda herself had spent many nights in here, and she shuddered as they passed the bloodstains on the floor.  
The window was open, just as it always was. It was a small window, but Tilda and Magda were small girls, half starved by the sisters. Cold air blew through it, and Magda shivered. They hadn't exactly planned on where to go after this. Tilda had only been in the school a year, but Magda had been here for most of her life. It was all she knew.

"Things are better," Tilda said, as though reading her mind. "Outside. We've got to take the chance."

Magda nodded. She played with something in the pocket of her pinafore - probably a match. Tilda always had a match, like they just grew in her pockets.

"I wish we could burn it," she said softly.

"We'll come back," Magda told her. "We'll come back in the summer. It'll burn better."

The ghost of a smile played on Tilda's lips, and, quickly, she pressed them to Magda's. "Thank you," she murmured, breaking away. "I don't think I would be able to do this alone."

"You too," Magda replied. "Tilda....maybe we could look for the baby."

"No," she said quietly, and she took a quick breath. "She doesn't need me. Nobody does."

"I do," Magda whispered. "I need you, Til. And I promise you that when we come back, we'll burn this place to the ground."

Tilda nodded and swiped at her eyes. "Give me a leg up, then," she said, and Magda helped her up, lifting her light little body until she could grab the edge of the window and haul herself up and out. For a moment, it seemed like she was stuck, and it felt like Magda's heart stopped. But then she wriggled a bit, and fell out the other side, into the blackness.

"Tilda!" She hissed. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," she said, her voice a little muffled. "It's just a smaller drop than I thought. Hold on-"

There were scuffing noises, and Tilda's arms appeared in the window. "I'll pull you."

Magda bit her lip, but she climbed up, grasping Tilda's arms. They shook, but the other girl pulled with all her might. Magda's head went through the window, her face meeting cold air and night sky, but her shoulders were wedged tightly.

"I'm stuck," she said, then swore.

Tilda was just under her, her face very white in the moonlight. She was still holding her hands, and she tugged, but to no avail.

"Maybe you could go back and try again?"

Magda tried to go back, but her shoulders wouldn't move. "I can't. My shoulders are stuck."

Tilda pulled harder, but Magda shook her head. "Leave me."

"You what?!" She puffed, out of breath.

"You go, and I'll catch up," she said, but hesitated. If they found her here tomorrow morning, and discovered Tilda had escaped, they would lock up the window. She didn't know any other way.

"I'm not leaving you, Magda," she said firmly. "They'd lock you up and beat you. We're doing this together, anyway."

"I know, but this isn't the time to be all noble! If you stay here, they'll get both of us. If you go, they'll only get me."

She shook her head. "I'm not going without you, Mags. You're the only thing I've got left."

Her throat caught. "Yeah," she said, and her voice was husky. "You too. I....I love you, Til."

"I love you too," Tilda whispered. "But I can't leave you. When I say now, I'll pull the hardest I can, and you try and push yourself out, right?"

"Right."

"Now!"

Magda pushed herself as hard as she could, and Tilda pulled so hard it felt like her arms were being yanked out of their sockets. But finally, there was a noise like the cork from a bottle, and Magda tumbled onto the dirt by Tilda's feet.

"Mags! Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," she said, getting up and wincing at the pain in her arms. But when you had grown up in the Grey House, you were used to much worse.

There was a sudden noise from the building, and light flared upstairs.

Tilda went pale. "We should go."

"Good idea," Magda said, and she grabbed her arm and they ran, to Nuggan knew where, but finally, finally, they were free.


End file.
